


Tight-lipped Tactician

by PRllNCE



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Bondage, Facials, Gangbang, Humiliation, Interrogation, Mind Break, Multi, Non-Consensual Tickling, Public Humiliation, Roughness, Tickling, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRllNCE/pseuds/PRllNCE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the infamous General Petrine--while in search of Lehran's Medallion--has the exceedinly valued tactician of the Greil Mercenaries at her mercy, she lets four of her loyal men work him over for the information she requires, but finds that the road is long as her defiant captive is quite the difficult one to crack. Though as it turns out, Petrine is gladly up to the challenge; almost too gladly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight-lipped Tactician

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely a fantasy scenario and does not reflect the views of the writer. Any noncon or implied noncon piece of mine is fictional play only, and I do not fetishize the practice itself or the trauma that follows. Respect consent, take care when reading my work and please stay safe. 
> 
> i'd just like to address the mentions regarding soren's "petite frame"; he's not underage nor does he look it. he's shorter and thinner with feminine features but i'm not intending to imply with my word choices that he's the "child" kind of little. just getting that out of the way to make sure!
> 
> anyway take care i went haywire again

   The doors slammed shut with a foreboding sound.

   The defiance in those eyes, wine-dyed and equally intoxicating in their idiosyncrasy, added an emphasis to his silent threat, one that weighed down the room despite his utter inability to act. The general noted the effect it had on her feeble men as they backed away from the intimidating aura and she scoffed, the heels of her armoured boots clacking down hard as she stepped forward to clutch her captive's rounded face.

   "Glare all you like, _boy_. The only way you'll be getting out of here is through your remains rotting off the gibbet."

   Those eyes never wavered and he stood his ground despite his situation--and the grossly obvious difference in power. It might have been cute, had he not put up such an aggravating fight earlier on. It wasn't as if Petrine opposed a good battle, mind, but this time was different and far more pressing; she was so close to attaining the medallion at this point that any blunder would have her head, and then some. Now if only the mage brat would speak, she could get on with it, but either he was a tough contender to break or her soldiers were useless rabble. Still, she couldn't help but curl her dark cherry lips into a smile as she recalled that a breaking point long battled for was all the more sweet when it finally came.

   The general gave young Soren's chin a good tug before withdrawing to lean against the solid chamber doors. "Why don't we try something different to spice things up," she proposed slyly. "You! I want to see you work some magic and make him talk. In fact, make him squeal; I want some begging out of that little devil for all my trouble. Torture him, and torture him good."

   On her command, the four men in the room with them stretched and tightened the chain cuffs attached to the cealing, leaving the boy standing in the shape of an X. If he felt any apprehension, it didn't show in the slightest. For a man with such a petite frame, he sure had more guts than the many worthless pig heads Petrine had faced off against in the past. This, however, she doubted he could handle for long.

   The men towered over the captive with malicious intent, placing themselves behind and on each side of him. Gloved hands stretched out towards his narrow physique, wiggling their fingers just above without making contact. Petrine watched as his eyes darted between them, counting eight hands hovering all over him with no escape in sight, every participant waiting for whatever reaction the teasing gestures might elicit. And sure enough, his hips began to squirm in a tame attempt to get away. As if on cue, the forty seasoned, aggressive fingers then plunged into Soren's unwitting body. They grabbed and dug into his flesh through the silky fabric of his robes, tickling him with savage vehemence, not so much as a warm-up preceding it. The mage boy's eyes rolled up for a moment at the sudden sensation and that tiny body writhed and shook, but to the general's disappointment he did not laugh in the least.

   Still, it was a favourable reaction, and she would get something out of him soon enough.

   The hands climbed everywhere, even bumping into each other on occasion as they skittered around to cover as much ground as possible, even taking each others' places to prevent any spot from resting. From his short arms down to his pits and sides, his chest and stomach, his hips and thighs, everywhere was fair game, and everywhere most definitely tickled. Soren struggled intensely to keep any sound from escaping, gracing them only with a select few sharp inhales and quiet moans of displeasure. But oh, how his body protested; it jolted so desperately from side to side that Petrine couldn't help but find it adorable, especially seeing as it did nothing to help him. All he did was catapulting himself into more hungry hands ready to work him over and ruin him.

   "How about it, boy?" Petrine taunted as she nonchalantly checked her fingers. "It's got to tickle so much that you can't stand it."

   But Soren audaciously shook his head and looked her in the eye with an unmistakable intensity. It didn't bother Petrine or strike her as a challenge however; it was a bit hard to take him seriously with him biting his lip so fiercely.

   "You must be trying so hard," she said, theatrically feigning sympathy. "Let's see how long you can keep it up. Undress his upper body, will you?"

   "Yes, General," the men swiftly responded before using the daggers fastened to their legs to shred the cloth, revealing ashen virgin flesh.

   "Now don't let him rest for even the quarter of a second. I _will_ see his composure lost today--maybe even his sanity while I'm at it."

   The first signs of worry formed a crease on Soren's brow and then he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling into a ragged, shrill squeak when the hands seized him once more.

   "Quite a different feeling to have them make contact with your skin, I'm sure," Petrine observed with a satisfied smirk. "That was a delightfully pathetic little noise you just made. And you may not be laughing, but that brittle little body of yours must be so ticklish if you're making a face like that. Go on... Laugh for me, mage tactician. You aren't fooling anyone like that."

   But this only made him clam up more, as if to stubbornly keep from Petrine what she wanted. She huffed and rolled her eyes.

   "Want me to call in more men here? Because I can do that. I can call in as many as it takes until every pore of your skin is tickled raw. I can have you tickled until you forget your own name."

   A pitiful, barely audible whine escaped him. Petrine sneered; she was hitting the marks, it seemed. With conviction, she took a few steps towards the victim and leaned forward with her hands locked on her hips.

   "I can make you my exclusive tickle slave," she whispered. "How does that sound? Your life will just consist of waking up to get tickled, until you pass out, and repeat. And they will all see you make those ridiculous faces, hear you shriek and whine. Eventually you'll be so used to it that you _want_ it with every fibre of your being... That's when I'll have them stop--until you beg them to touch you again, to run their hands over you and torment you all over your pathetic little tickle slave body."

   "Ah...!" he hoarsely squeezed out, before again attempting to square off against his captor. "Do... your w... orst."

   Petrine straightened back up with a whip of her malachite hair, sporting a heckling smirk.

   "You're going to make _me_ laugh. Find that sensitive spot, men. They all have one."

   Before heading back to her position by the door, Petrine revelled in the dejected look on Soren's face. The men, afraid of what punishment might befall them should they perform in an unsatisfactory manner, picked up the pace and searched, making sure to pull and stretch every inch of skin they tickled to add to the sensation. They were good, Petrine had to silently admit. She crossed her arms over her ample chest and enjoyed the view.

   "Ooh, try here," one of the men suggested. "Next to his armpits, on the outer side. I touched him and he jerked like crazy!"

   Another joined up and gave it a try, giving the spot a few gentle brushes.

   "Hmnnhhhpph...!"

   "He's about to crack," Petrine said. "Keep going, don't stop."

   While one pulled at the skin, the others began to run their hands roughly over and around that spot, causing Soren to jump up and down in distress despite his position. His long, murky hair was so dishevelled from all his thrashing about that it covered his face, but Petrine could still see the stupid look on it as he began snorting.

   "Here, too! Right where his legs begin," said another man while hastily pulling down the tattered robes to reveal protruding hip bones. Not a second was wasted as one of the others moved down to assist. All the while they taunted him, telling him he liked it and wanted more.

   "Mmmpphh!! MMMM!!"

   "Harder! Faster!" Petrine commanded. "You! Force his mouth open!"

   "Yes, ma'am!"

   The man who put himself in charge of this grabbed the boy's chin in spite of his incessant struggles and forcefully pulled it down to let out a string of strained grunts. At the same time, the other three continued toying wildly with his sweet spots, leaving his skin flushed and bruised.

   "Still not making a sound, eh? Show me his tongue."

   He was making an even sillier face now with his mouth open and tongue pulled out far, coupled with the grimace of having to taste a man's smelly glove. But that, while a lovely sight, was not why Petrine had ordered it. She approached Soren again, slowly procuring a long feather from her leg where she liked to keep her tools.

   "Ahh...! Aahhh...!" Soren pitifully moaned through his wide-open mouth, shivering still from the three men's fingers destroying him. It must be dampening even his ability to think, Petrine thought, as those eyes so strong and defiant had begun to glaze over. He couldn't even look at her straight anymore; evidently it was tickling so much he could barely keep them from rolling up into his skull. The forced ecstasy weeded its way into his mind so brutally, Petrine had no idea how he continuously kept himself from laughing, but it only made her all the more determined to make it happen.

   She held up the feather in front of him now, making sure he could see what it was, and smiled deviously.

   "Tickle tickle, little slave boy," she teased as she dipped the sharp feather on his exposed tongue, the one he had been so impudently waving at her.

   Soren screamed, loudly.

   "Ohh, that's what I want to hear..."

   Petrine began flicking it back and forth, softly brushing against the highly sensitive areas all around the tongue. She felt him try hard to pull it back but to no avail.

   "I like that scream for vermin like you, but it's just not enough," she taunted. "Try the feet. Just use the hairbrushes, and use them hard. Those things tickle like mad."

   While the others were busy adjusting the restraints and removing Soren's boots, Petrine wielded her feather with destructive smoothness. She let it dance swiftly over his taste buds, making it wet from the drool gathering below, and even pushed it into his mouth and tickled the roof. Clear tears were forming in the victim's eyes before Petrine pulled away to let the men do their work. He was finally allowed to close his mouth, but at this point it didn't matter; he couldn't keep it closed anyway as the bristly surface of two hairbrushes began assaulting the soles of his feet. At the same time, his upper body once again suffered skilled hands running up and down the sides and rubbing stomach and ribs alike. They even flicked his nipples when they could, laughing in unison at the manic reactions it caused.

   He screamed so sweetly, his noises so depraved and miserable, but even better was the steady staggering of that darling voice as he started to laugh. And once he started, he didn't stop; Petrine and her men would not let it simmer out already after trying so hard to get it.

   Soren's laughter was powerful and spasmodic, fluctuating oddly up and down and creating a discordantly ludicrous sound. It was as rewarding as Petrine had guessed, and she laughed herself at the apparent lack of stability and sanity in that sweet sound.

   Up and down the bristly brushes went without pause, covering the entirety of his toes, his mounds and his heels. From his reactions alone they knew just where to get him, where it tickled enough to cause another tremor of frenzied giggles, and they all relished in it. Again and again, over and over, everywhere they delivered punishment more severe and more brutal with every passing second. Soren heaved and wheezed and moaned and shrieked but it did not break their concentration. If anything, it spurred them on.

   "Aaww, poor baby," the general cooed viciously. "Is my tickle slave tired? Does it tickle too much right there on the little spot? Ohh, you should have thought of that before refusing to talk."

   "Ah! Ah!! AH!! AHAHAHNNNN!!" sounded the wild teetering of Soren's broken voice.

   Petrine only smiled, feeling her body grow hot with pleasure as she watched the loyal men under her command torture the mind out of the clever little tactician.

   "Oh, I'm sure you're loving it. It wouldn't surprise me with filth like you. I'm willing to bet you feel so good right now, you're ready to forget all about the life you led up until now. How about it, Soren? I'm sure you can't wait to wake up tomorrow to their busy fingers. Just look at you... Moaning like that, you're begging them not to stop."

   Deciding to join the fray again, Petrine had Soren shivering as she ran her long nails all over his body. This coupled with his already frantic attempt to get out of the men's clutches only intensified the delicious squirming. She explored dangerously slowly, mocking him verbally every step of the way with promises of daily hours of torture and even public humiliation. She told him how she would parade him around Daein and let the citizens have their way with his chained body, having him imagine what it might feel like to have so many people do nothing but tickle him, how humiliating it might be if the sight of him made the men so hard they'd have to come all over him as he's still being tickled. How they'd drag his tongue out like before and come into his mouth as he's still laughing and begging and having his most sensitive spots toyed with and teased. How it would feel so good that he'd do nothing but slur and drool and climax, and how that would be his life from now on.

   There was no way this would ever happen, of course, but Soren was just so susceptible to her words that Petrine couldn't stop herself. Watching him being reduced to this sorry state was as entertaining as one evening could be, and she intended to milk it the whole way.

   "Now speak, or we really won't stop. Speak, or we won't stop for as long as you _live_. By tomorrow this time the next town over will be feasting on your body."

   "Oh, I seem to have forgotten," she added. "You can't speak at all with these men tickling you so roughly, can you?"

   Her smile widened considerably.

   "That's a shame, then."


End file.
